John, yelling to his friend: Hey, Paul. Don't forget to cover the trip wire with branches.
Sorting through the ever-growing pile of unmatched socks and finding buried within a baby doll and a plastic hand grenade.Ainsley's teeny, tiny mary janes.
Kolbe's impossibly deep voice.
The way Tim still calls me Mama either late at night or if he's in need of cash.
Kolbe, imitating Kermit the Frog imitating Beyonce: For all the single tadpoles . . . For all the single tadpoles . . .
Ainsley: There are five things I love about church. First, praising God. Second, seeing Colette. Third, donuts. Fourth, Faith Formation. Fifth, seeing John's god-sister, Tessa.
Ainsley's sweet young voice mingling with that of our eighty-five-year-old house guest, Evelyn.
Evelyn coming out of her room with a hand grenade she found mixed up with the
laundry.
The sound of Tim at the piano playing Nocturne late at night.
The feel of Ainsley's sweet cheeks.
Kolbe learning How To Save a Life in memory of Uncle Keith.
The sight of John's filthy clothes and feet as he returns from a productive afternoon at the fort.
Ainsley's backwards Y.
Piano notes written on John's fingers as he trudges through Pop! Goes the Weasel!
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